Saoirse’s POV

  Liam and I had been dating for a few months by then, and everything about him felt easy. He made me laugh, he listened when I talked, and he always knew how to make me feel special. We spent so much time together—studying, training, sneaking in kisses between classes—that it was only a matter of time before things escalated.

  It happened one evening after a long training session. We were both sweaty, exhausted, and high on endorphins. The track had emptied out, and the only sound was the distant hum of cars passing by the school.

  Liam had his arms wrapped around me, both of us sitting on the grass under the bleachers, catching our breath. "You know," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face, "I’ve been thinking about this for a while."

  I shivered—not from the cold, but from the way his voice dropped lower, almost hesitant. "Thinking about what?" I asked, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

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  His blue eyes searched mine, and then, without another word, he kissed me. It was slow, deep, different from the playful kisses we usually shared. My stomach fluttered.

  We’d talked about it before. The when, the where, the are we ready? conversation. But now that we were here, I didn’t want to think.

  I just wanted him.

  We ended up in his bedroom later that night, our breaths uneven, hands unsure but eager. Liam was gentle, patient, constantly asking if I was okay.

  "Are you sure?" he whispered against my lips, his forehead pressed to mine.

  I nodded, my heart pounding. "Yeah."

  It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t like the movies—there were awkward laughs, nervous touches, and moments where we had to pause just to breathe. But when it was over, he held me close, running his fingers through my hair, and kissed my forehead.

  "I love you, you know," he murmured against my skin.

  I smiled, feeling safe in his arms. "I know."

  And for a while, everything felt right.